THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
18 ' 
“ Insects, that only may 
live in a sunbright ray, 
To my whiteness, to my whiteness 
Shall be drawn, as to a brightness. 
“ And every moth and bee 
Shall near me reverently, 
Wheeling round me, wheeling o'er me 
Coronals of motioned glory. 
“ I ween the very skies 
Will look down in surprise, 
When low on earth they see me, 
With my cloudy aspect dreamy. 
“ E’en nightingales shall flee 
Their woods for love of me, 
Singing sadly all the suntide, 
Never waiting for the moontide ! 
“ Three larks shall leave a cloud 
To my whiter beauty vow’d, 
Singing gladly all the moontide, 
Never waiting for the suntide.” 
So praying did she win 
South winds to let her in, 
In her loneness, in her loneness, 
And the fairer for that oneness. 
